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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25756582">Sang Pour Sang</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_On_My_Own/pseuds/Living_On_My_Own'>Living_On_My_Own</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Miscarriage, Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:36:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25756582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_On_My_Own/pseuds/Living_On_My_Own</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They wanted this for so long, he just hoped it wouldn’t be ruined.</p><p> </p><p>This is a short story I’ve written a while ago. It was supposed to be longer, but I liked it ended like that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Deacon/Freddie Mercury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sang Pour Sang</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>3rd person's POV:</p><p>It ended too quickly the first time. </p><p>Neither of them would ever forget the time they got announced. When they were told something that would turn their life upside down. Something that would ruin everything they had achieved to get. </p><p>"I'm sorry to tell you that the baby didn't survive."</p><p>The doctor had said other rubbish things, but none of them listened. It didn't really matter now. They were left alone for a little while, to be able to swallow it all. To try and not make a mess out of themselves. </p><p>The room stayed silent for minutes. Neither of the men looked at each other. John rubbed his eyes, beginning to feel so tired. He never really cried, he wasn't a heart on the sleeve type of man. He never really showed his weaknesses. But this time, he didn't try to fight when tears began trickling down his face. </p><p>It made Freddie turn and look at him. 'Look what you did' was all that was repeating in his head. Over, and over again. It made him cry too. Not as silently. Loud and painful sobs came out of his hand covered face. He felt empty, as much in his belly as in his heart. </p><p>"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, John." He had sobbed, guilt taking over, making his throat close up. It hurt so much.</p><p>The hand that stayed on his shoulder barely made him feel any less cold. It was horrible, all those thoughts eating him up from inside. He knew it was his fault, he had killed their baby. He didn't understand how he had managed to mess up again, but he did. And now the thing that mattered the most to the bassist was gone. He always managed to ruin everything. </p><p>"It's okay, Freddie. It's not your fault. It's not your fault." John tried reassuring.</p><p>He didn't use that nickname he usually loved to call his lover. He knew it would hurt too much. Baby. And it was such a cute thing he liked to call him, and the musician knew it made the singer feel loved and beautiful. But now he really couldn't bring himself to say it.</p><p>"I'm sorry, I'll try to be better, John. I swear. I know I'm not good at it, but I swear I won't fail next time. I promise, Johnny." The pianist whispered, his sentences mixed with tears and sobs. His hair got in the way, getting all wet. </p><p>Arms were wrapped around him. The arms of the frowning man he loved so badly. The man he wanted to be better for. He couldn't lose him. So he'd be better next time, because Freddie knew how bad John wanted kids. He knew it was important. So if they didn't have them, Freddie didn't know what would make him stay. </p><p>The brunette shushed him, his hands rubbing on his husband's back. The panic words coming out of his lover's mouth made something in him break. The knowing in his voice, that he would be left alone if he didn't make so much more effort, even if he was already working so hard for this to work. For them to have their own family. </p><p>"I'm here, love. You did your best, it happens. I'm not gonna leave you, okay? I love you so so much, I would never leave you." John quietly said in Freddie's ear, tightly his grip on him. </p><p>It had lasted weeks of all of this happening all over again. The singer apologising way too much, panicking, telling himself all the hugs were the last ones, that at one point there wouldn't be anyone to comfort him. He was always comforted by sweet words, so softly said. </p><p>*****</p><p>It took a year for both of them to finally be able to be ready. And they now wanted it so bad, to add a new part to their little family, which for now consisted of them two and a few cats. And each time they looked at each other, even if they were so scared, they knew the other wanted the same thing. </p><p>But life seemed to never leave them alone. </p><p>They tried so hard. Again and again. And it hurt so much every time a test ended up in the trash can, with no good news. And so many of them ended up hidden in the middle of an endless amount of tissues. It was always brought with shame and disappointment. They didn't talk about it anymore. The singer never talked about any of the pregnancy tests he did. But all the weight of these false hopes piled on his shoulders, mixed with the feeling he was failing again. </p><p>He opened the red wine bottle, at least he could drink. He hit with his elbow the glass that was on the countertop. It fell, and broke. And when he kneeled on the floor, trying to pick up the pieces of glass, cutting himself in the process, he broke down too. The blood dripped from his hand. </p><p>The younger kneeled in front of him, cleaning up the wound and patching it up. He asked for the reason of the cries. But he knew deep down what it was about. He found them, when he emptied the trash cans, all the negative tests. And he knew it would affect Freddie. He knew there would eventually be tears, even if there were probably a few that fell when he wasn't home, or when he woke up too late.</p><p>"I went to the doctor. B-because I'm not getting pregnant."The older whispered, hiccups getting in the way.</p><p>John rubbed his arms delicately, encouraging him to continue, to let it all out. </p><p>"I can't have kids." </p><p>Freddie kept his eyes opened, looking at his husband. His heart dropped when he saw he wasn't looking at him anymore. The English man brought his lover near the couch, sitting him on the coffee table, leaving the mess on the floor to be cleaned up later. </p><p>"I'm sorry." The Persian repeated over and over again. </p><p>"We could get a second opinion." The younger said quietly, looking in the watery eyes of the man in front of him. </p><p>And suddenly their eyes didn't look into each other anymore. It was all fucked up. It was something they had dreamed for for so long, and it had been squashed so quickly. How would it ever work, now?</p><p>"I got three opinions. They all said the same."</p><p>"How long have you know?" The brunette asked, a surprising angry edge getting mixed with his sad voice. </p><p>"A few months." Was answered so quietly, guilt taking over. </p><p>Then, the warm on his arms was replaced by cold and the hands of the younger found themselves on his own face. Panic settled in, this terrible feeling making the whole body of the singer shake. He was so close to the bassist, yet he felt so much closer to lose him. </p><p>"Why?" Was the only word that came from John's lips.</p><p>"You want a big family, John. I won't be able to give that. Ever. And I know how much people you could meet that could give you that. I was so scared. I can't lose you." It came out quickly, yet slowly, panicked, yet calm, filled with sobs. </p><p>This time, when John's hand reached Freddie's, it didn't calm any of the anxiety. It was too deep, thought for too long, engraved too thickly in his head. And it was so scary, all that warmness that would eventually be gone. </p><p>"I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry I disappoint you. I tried, I swear, but I failed again. I promised and I still wasn't able to do it. I'm sorry I disappointed you." It came out too quickly, words piling on each other. </p><p>It made John's heart break. Both the news he had received and the reaction of his husband. He knew it wasn't new, that it had been thought over and over again, that it had replaced the rational thoughts in the Persian's head.</p><p>He felt a strange pressure in his chest. It wasn't familiar. It wasn't physically painful, but John could feel it tearing him apart, making it so hard to breathe. He needed to be calm, understanding, comforting for his husband, but it was already so hard to stay composed. His dream that he had for so long was taken away from him so quickly. </p><p>He felt a fire building up in his body. He kept repeating to himself, it wasn't Freddie's fault, he was as defeated as John, it's wasn't his fault, he was doing his best. But the bassist lost control, standing up so quickly, letting go of his lover, hands wanting to tear away all his hair. He growled so loudly, but he truly wanted to scream, to shout at anything he could. To shout about how life was never leaving them be. </p><p>He was startled out of his bubble when he heard the cries coming from in front of him, the high pitched sobs and the pained apologies mixed together. The fire extinguished quickly at the sounds surrounding the younger musician. He fell down on his knees, quickly holding the older's hands, but Freddie didn't stop. He was too scared, the only thing that was grounding him was in front of him, holding his hands, but about when he would be gone? When he'd get enough, when he'd realise there was so much better outside if he looked. </p><p>"I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry!"</p><p>It came out almost as a scream. Almost as plead. It was scared, frightened. It was sad, guilty. It sent shivers through John's body. It was rushed, way too panicked. The body of the singer was all curled on itself, protected from the next blow, one on his heart. The fear made him tense, never wanting to see his husband so angry again. And it was because of him. Directed at him, started because of him. He had disappointed, he had angered, he didn't make him proud, loved, or happy. He ruined, like he was.</p><p>He had been so hopeful, that finally was able to make his husband proud, to make him want to smooch him in thousands of kisses because of how proud he was. He was hopeful he had been acting good enough, that he didn't need to worry all the time anymore. But maybe he was too hopeful. Because he was searching for something he knew he would never find. For a place where he wouldn't feel like only a bundle of neediness that burdened John. He had never felt the warmth of feeling enough, and he knew it wouldn't be soon that he'd get to finally feel this way. </p><p>"Freddie, I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so harsh." John whispered soothingly. </p><p>But Freddie had heard this too many times for his own good, being told it wasn't his fault, that his lover wasn't mad. But something was always expected from him, to do something to be forgiven properly. He knew how it worked. Sweet words whispered in his ear, kisses to make him feel safe and worthy, and then he would be brought to his knees, or pushed on the bed, told to do the only thing he could do right. It was a pattern, repeating itself over and over again. He was expected to please others, but never seemed to do enough. He was repeated that he could do better, that he was sloppy, useless, ugly, naïve, too much, not enough, too Freddie. </p><p>It had never happened with John, but he was persuaded it wouldn't be long before it did. </p><p>Freddie's name was called several times. He finally looked at his partner, ready to do what he would be forced to do. It made him sick to think about John being the same, but he told himself again that the problem wasn't his lovers, he was the problem, it was why everybody treated him the same. </p><p>"Freddie, kitten, you need to believe me. I love you, okay? The ring on your finger isn't there for nothing. And it doesn't matter if we don't get to have a family, because the only reason I wanted to have a family was because it would be with you by my side. We don't need to have kids, we could get a big family cats instead, and I would be as happy because you would be with me. And I don't want you to ever, EVER, blame yourself for not being able to have a baby, okay? It's not your fault, I know you did whatever you could do and it still turned out like that, because that's life, and sometimes life is really shitty, but it'll be all fine."</p><p>Freddie's heart pumped so loudly. He was almost deafened by it. </p><p>"D- do you want me t-to make it up to you?" The Persian stuttered, a hand finding the belt buckle of John's pants. But the bassist carefully but quickly took his husband's hand and brought it to his lips. The hand was soft and warm, even if a slight tremble made it impossible to stay steady. </p><p>"You've got nothing to make up to me for. I love you so so much. I wish you'd really know how much. You're my whole world baby." Maybe he would start calling him with that nickname again. </p><p>*****</p><p>And then somehow, life gave them a chance, maybe it was an apology, for being so cruel before. </p><p>And Freddie started getting sick. It worried John, but the thought that this maybe was a sign of pregnancy stayed in John's head for so long. When he talked about his concern to the singer, he was quickly shut down and he never talked about it again. The pianist was certain it couldn't be that. He had been told he wouldn't be pregnant again. </p><p>But after two weeks, the sickness didn't stop. And then after a month, Freddie's pants didn't fit him anymore, which came with an emotional outburst that wasn't habitual at all. And Freddie became constantly tired. He went to sleep every night so early, which John found sad since it made him get less time with the man he loved in his arms. </p><p>So one day, the younger man decided to do something about it. </p><p>"You need to do the test, Freddie." He had said firmly, but calmly at the same time. </p><p>He had bought the test, handed it to his lover, and almost forced him to do it. It took several minutes of convincing, but they finally found themselves sitting against the bathroom wall, ass on the cold floor, hands laced together, anxiety in the pit of their stomach. </p><p>"I don't wanna look." Freddie whispered when it was finally time to see. </p><p>So John did it, and kept  his eyes shut as he felt tears prickling them. He took Freddie's hand, and the older understood quickly. He had been hoping for nothing. Again. </p><p>They stayed sat, arms wrapped around each other. John took the little test to toss in the the trash can, and his eyes widened. He allowed himself to look twice, to look three or four times. Positive. </p><p>"Freddie. You're pregnant." He said with so much calm. </p><p>Freddie's eyes widened, before looking at the stick and letting out a cry of joy, jumping on John so quickly, letting the happy tears peacefully fall. He had done it. He had managed to do it. </p><p>"I love you." John whispered repeatedly. </p><p>At their first appointment, they were told something they already knew. This baby was a miracle.</p><p>*****</p>
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